


Shizuka Shines

by pollybywater



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-01
Updated: 2006-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Sentinel Thursday challenge # 130 - Winter Olympics.  The fic is written in fragments and weird tenses, so beware.  Warning: angst. woe. past sexual abuse of a character as a minor. potential consent issues.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Shizuka Shines

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sentinel Thursday challenge # 130 - Winter Olympics. The fic is written in fragments and weird tenses, so beware. Warning: angst. woe. past sexual abuse of a character as a minor. potential consent issues.

The day Blair finally breaks is just a day like any other day - or rather night, since it's almost midnight when it happens.

He stares into the TV screen and realizes that he just can't do this any more.

Just. Can't.

The Japanese skater's long program is flawlessly executed. He thinks "Wow, she nailed it!" then catches himself turning to tell Jim something. Anything. The same thing, maybe.

"She just nailed the gold! Holy Grail time!"

But Jim isn't there, of course, because Jim is out. Again.

Doing something. Anything. Just so he won't have to be at home. With Blair.

And this is Blair's fault; Blair knows this. He's the one who's made Jim too uncomfortable to stay in his own home. He's the one Jim is avoiding - has _been_ avoiding for two weeks - since Blair, in some state of temporary insanity fueled by yet another near-death experience, had misinterpreted a friendly hug and responded by grabbing Jim and planting a big wet not-at-all-merely-friendly kiss right on Jim's mouth.

With tongue.

And because Jim is - was - his friend, Jim didn't hit him or shove him or otherwise retaliate physically. Jim didn't even curse at him. Jim hasn't thrown him out of the loft, either, because Jim had promised years ago that he would never do that to Blair again.

So, instead, Jim throws himself out of the loft to avoid Blair. Like tonight. Jim isn't home. Jim is never home. Jim can't stand to look at him. Won't even speak to him unless it's about a case.

Blair thinks maybe this is killing him and he hates himself for fucking everything up.

He's tried apologizing. Explaining. Rationalizing. He didn't mean it. It was adrenaline. Impulse. Relief had carried him away.

All lies - and since Jim knows they're lies, they don't help the situation any.

Truthfully, Blair had thought at the time that maybe Jim was finally ready. Finally with him on the same page, wanting him the same way.

He'd betrayed his true feelings. Betrayed their friendship, their partnership and apparently their future, too, because Jim isn't getting over this and Blair just can't take it any more.

He just can't take any more.

He watches Arakawa smile her luminous winner's smile and wonders if anything is ever worth what it costs.

He packs a duffel and calls a cab to take him to the airport.

He's heard Bolivia is nice this time of year.

***

Carolyn closed the front door and bit back a sigh, wondering if she'd ever seen her ex-husband more miserable. She wouldn't have turned Jim away regardless, but one look at his face told her not to kick a strong man while he was down.

She threaded her arm through his and led him to the sofa. Before his arrival, she'd been lying under an afghan watching the Winter Games, drinking tea and thoroughly enjoying herself.

Carolyn Plummer was a woman who appreciated her quiet time.

"Can I get you a drink? No, let me rephrase that. I'll get you a drink. Jack Daniels?"

"Look, Carolyn-"

"Just sit there for a minute, Jimmy. Your skin's like ice." She pulled the afghan around his shoulders.

"No, look, the tea's fine," he insisted, helping himself to her cup, which he swallowed as if grateful for its warmth. "Besides, there's not enough Jack Daniels in the world," he added as if to himself, startling her so much she turned around and sat down beside him.

"Jimmy, what's wrong?" She asked, suddenly afraid. "Your father? Stephen? Has something-"

"No, no, honey, they're fine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Jim put his arms around her and held her, gently, at first; then she felt his breath hitch in his throat as his arms tightened around her in a convulsive squeeze.

It felt good to be in his arms again, but not like this. Carolyn had never wanted to see Jim like this. She gasped, breathless with his pain as a silent sob shuddered through him.

"Jimmy, what on earth is wrong?" she asked again, helplessly, squeezing him back, never believing for a moment that he would actually tell her. "Is it Blair? Is he-"

"No, he's okay." Leaning into her, Jim took a deep breath and rested his forehead on her shoulder. "I really- I need-"

"Whatever you need, Jimmy. You know that."

She couldn't help but stroke him, one hand on the nape of his neck automatically rubbing at the tension she found there. He relaxed into her arms and she felt ridiculously complimented.

"I want to talk about it," he said. Carolyn felt her eyes widen.

"Yeah, yeah, what a surprise, Jim Ellison wants to talk. That's what Blair would say. Shit." He sighed in gusty despair. "And I need to talk to you, honey. You know me better than anybody except-"

He cut himself off again, reminding Carolyn of how very difficult this was for Jim. God, _did she ever_ know better than anybody how much Jim hated to talk about feelings.

And don't think she hadn't noticed how much this conversation was circling around Blair Sandburg, who was conspicuous by his absence.

"Have your senses been publicly exposed again?" She asked suddenly, heart filled with an entirely new fear - the kind that made her gun hand twitch. "Are you in trouble?"

"No, no, nothing like that." His hands closed on her shoulders and pushed her back, sad eyes trying to smile at her. He shook his head and laughed. The sound was not at all amused. "It's almost worse than that."

Chewing on her bottom lip, Carolyn inspected him. He met her gaze steadily, his own mouth twisting.

"I could use that drink now."

"Good idea. I think I'll join you." She poured them both a double, glad it was the weekend.

Jim accepted his with an absent "thanks" and stared into his glass, nostrils flaring over the scent of the liquor.

She wondered what his sense of smell was telling him.

"Uh, did you know Blair loves me?" He asked, belting back half the contents of his glass before closing his eyes and sniffing slightly.

Carolyn took a small sip, rolled the taste around on her tongue and considered how best to answer.

She was, she felt, a little too mature to gape at Jim and say "Well, duh!"

Christ, poor Blair if Jim was just now figuring this out.

She swallowed slowly, sipped again, and eventually settled for nodding.

"I knew that, yeah."

"I mean, he's in love with me, Carolyn. He wants- he wants-"

"I can't believe he waited this long," she burst out before she could think better of it. "I can't believe you're so surprised. Okay, stop, Carolyn." She put her hand over her mouth and shook her head. "I'm sorry, that didn't come out right."

"How long?" Jim asked, his tone suddenly a little impatient. "How long do you think he-"

"Oh, Jimmy, I knew the first time I saw him look at you. Of course I recognized it."

Blair Sandburg worshipped the ground Jim Ellison walked on. Carolyn had always been aware of that.

"I didn't know." Jim put his glass down unfinished and scrubbed his face with his hands. "That long, huh. So it was always there and I just never realized- God, am I that stupid?"

"Well, yeah," Carolyn said, unable to suppress a low chuckle. "Sometimes, Jimmy. But we love you anyway."

His lips twitched into a genuine smile, and Carolyn mentally patted herself on the back.

"Thanks."

"So Blair what? Finally put the moves on you?" She asked, tone deliberately casual. Jim glanced at her sharply.

"You don't sound shocked by that."

"Why should I be?" She pointed out the window. "San Francisco, Jimmy. Not such a big deal."

"It is for me," he whispered a little harshly, hands on his thighs tightening into fists. "I'm not- I'm not _gay_ , Carolyn. I can't- I can't-"

Like a whirlwind, he was off the couch and stalking around her living room.

"I can't be that for him. I _can't_."

"Ah." Poor Blair indeed. "I never knew you were so homophobic."

"I'm not! That's not- I don't care what other people do!" He ran a frustrated hand over his head.

"You care what they think?" Carolyn asked him pointedly, eyebrow lifting.

"Damnit, Carolyn-"

"Now, that sounds more like the Jim Ellison I know. Sit back down, finish your drink, and tell me what happened. What did Blair do?"

He frowned ferociously at her but did as she'd ordered, not speaking until his glass was empty.

"He kissed me," Jim admitted roughly, twirling the glass in his hands until Carolyn reached out and took it away from him, heaving an exasperated sigh.

"Please tell me you didn't hit him," she said, wincing.

"No, I didn't hit him! God, what do you think I am? Some kind of Neanderthal?"

She tried not to laugh at that, but knew he saw the humor in her eyes when his beautiful mouth quirked at her.

"What _did_ you do?" she asked curiously.

"I just kind of stood there at first then I walked away. I've been walking away ever since," Jim added in a low voice, face darkening.

Reminded of how much this was hurting Jim, the situation suddenly wasn't funny at all. Carolyn took Jim's hand and held it tightly, gazing into his confused, unhappy eyes.

Good grief. If someone had told her fifteen years ago - while she was married to him - that one day she'd be shepherding Jim through some kind of homosexual freak out, she'd have thought them insane.

Oh well. Who was more qualified, she wondered with some amusement.

"Did you- like it?"

She had to ask. Jim blushed - _blushed_ \- and Carolyn felt her jaw want to drop; an expression she restrained into calm interest for both their sakes, waiting until he gave her a minute nod.

"But it's not- he's- I don't- I'm not-"

"Okay, okay."

"I don't know what to do. I don't know who I am anymore," he confessed with so much misery her throat tightened sympathetically.

"Jimmy, do you love him?"

"He's my best friend, Carolyn. Of course I love him."

"But are you in love with him?" she made herself ask next, very certain Jim was, whether he recognized it or not.

"I can't be."

"Because he's a man."

Carolyn pinched the bridge of her nose and fought the urge to simply smack Jim. Sometimes she wondered if she knew him at all - not a new question. There were reasons she'd divorced him.

"Why are you angry?" He sounded perplexed.

"I can't believe you're this homophobic! My God, Jim, you've never been a bigot! How can you be so- so- You know, it wouldn't make you subhuman to be gay!"

Now it was her turn to get up and stomp around, ignoring his aggrieved "Carolyn!" She retrieved her purse from the kitchen counter and pulled out her wallet, withdrawing from it a photograph she tossed in Jim's lap.

"That's Melinda. We've been lovers for six months. We’re planning to move in together. We're happy. Does that make me less of a person in your eyes?" She pushed her hair off her face, heart pounding with fury.

Jim stared at her mutely, his eyes astonished and faintly appalled.

"I bet you looked at Blair just like that, didn't you. That poor bastard. Next time I see him, I'll have to buy him a drink. We'll toast to the survivors of love, Ellison style."

"Jesus, you can be such a bitch." Jim laughed shortly. "Being gay hasn't changed you any."

"That's right. It hasn't. I'm the same person I've always been, except hey, here's a concept - I'm happy now. And if you're going to throw away your chance to be happy because you can't love the person instead of the gender, then I feel sorry for you, Jimmy."

She snatched the picture of Melinda out of Jim's hands, staring at it, wishing Melinda was here instead of out of town on business.

Melinda's beautiful brown eyes smiled into hers and Carolyn forced herself to calm down, quit reacting, and start thinking, instead.

"Why are you so afraid of the idea?" She slid the photo back into her purse and tossed it onto a nearby chair. "There has to be a reason."

"I think we're done here," Jim said, standing.

"You wish. You came to me, remember? We'll straighten this out right now." Taking Jim's arm, she yanked him down onto the sofa with her, aborting his effort to leave.

"Possibly not the best choice of words," she added after a moment, relieved when he snorted a laugh.

They sat in silence for a while, shoulder to shoulder.

"I honestly don't have anything against gays, Carolyn. It's _me_. I just - my skin crawls when I think of myself with- I can't go there. Not even for Blair."

"Have you talked to him about it? I'm not crazy about the guy, but I know he'd never pressure you for-"

"That wouldn't be very fair to him, would it?"

"You're not being very fair now. You haven't talked to him at all, have you? How long ago-"

"Thirteen days."

"God, he must think you hate him," she muttered mostly to herself, sorry for it when he grimaced.

"Jim..." Her voice trailed away as some back-of-the-mind suspicion bloomed into sudden, full-flowered surety. "Jimmy, were you molested?"

His face drained of color so rapidly she seriously thought he was going to pass out. Her hands shot out to grab him by the shoulders. He _flinched_ \- a hard jerk that almost tore him out of her grasp - which told her everything she needed to know. Nearly.

"You don't have to say anything else," she said, fingers tightening on his upper arms. "Just ... was it your father?"

"No, no. The older brother of a friend," he whispered into her ear and they were suddenly right back where they'd started from, in each other's arms and clinging. "I'm sorry."

"Sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault," she assured him, so distressed her eyes were stinging and watering. "It wasn't your fault. You were a kid?"

"Twelve," he said, almost gasping the word. "I was twelve."

"Oh, Jimmy."

~~~

"I didn't even remember it until after Blair- It was a repressed memory. It's not the first time something's come back to me that I guess I ... taught myself to forget."

It was quite some while later; long enough for them to have changed positions, now half-lying together across the sofa. Jim's head rested on Carolyn's chest. She'd wrapped her arms around his shoulders, deliberately protective, and tried to fit these revelations into what she knew about Jim.

So much was explained. Carolyn badly wanted to cry.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"I know, honey. I can smell it all over you." Jim sighed heavily then lifted himself up to sit, propping his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands.

Straightening, Carolyn tucked her feet under her and fluffed her hair, attempting to conceal how startled she was. Jim's senses fascinated her, but he rarely referred to them openly, even after allowing her to read Blair's dissertation several years earlier. Given that she'd witnessed some of Jim's reactions, she'd had no problem accepting Jim really was what Blair had called him; a sentinel. Part of Carolyn would always be awed by the scope of what Jim could do ... and part of her was equally, secretly - albeit unwillingly - awed by Blair Sandburg's role in that miracle.

She'd told Jim the truth. She'd never be crazy about Blair, but she had a great deal of respect for who he was and what he'd done for Jim; respect that wasn't limited to Blair's actions at his press conference. Jim was a better person - a better _human_ \- for having known Blair Sandburg, as much as it sometimes pained Carolyn to admit.

She wished she knew some magic words that could get them _all_ through this situation intact - but she didn't know what to say. What Jim needed to hear.

"Did you know that my sense memories are eidetic? When I focus on them, it's like they're happening all over again. 'With the clarity of hallucination'," Jim murmured unexpectedly, scrubbing at his face. He offered an effortful smile that made her stomach hurt.

Carolyn was too intelligent not to understand what he was telling her. Her throat closed on the questions she wanted to ask, and Jim, damn him, must have seen them in her eyes.

"He kissed me. Told me I was too pretty to be a boy." The words sounded like they were grinding through glass. "Forced me to go down on him. Came down my throat, which was sore for a week afterward. Split my lip. That was it for ... physical damage."

Jim coughed; that harsh sound a man makes when he's trying not to cry. She started weeping for him. She couldn't help herself.

"I still taste- Do you get it now? Why I can't- I can't-"

"I do. I understand. Do _you_ get that you're letting him ruin your life? You don't have to keep living in that moment!" She said forcefully, starting to understand how much more difficult Jim's mysterious senses were making an already terrible situation.

If she'd learned one thing from reading Blair's dissertation, she'd learned that Jim had to believe he could do it, first, before he could.

"How the hell do I stop thinking about-"

 **"Put something else there!"** The words came out of nowhere. She caught herself shouting them at Jim and grabbed his arm, squeezing her apology and moderating her tone. "Put something else there. Jimmy, how did _Blair_ taste?"

Jim's lips trembled, and Carolyn sobbed for him when his eyes filled with tears that spilled down his drawn and care-worn face.

"Like heaven. He tasted like heaven."

***

Blair switched identities in Mexico City. After all those years in Major Crime, he knew people who knew people, and he seriously didn't want to be found. Ever.

Blair Sandburg was dead, long live- whoever the hell he was going to be this week, or the week after, or a year from now.

It wouldn't matter.

Blair Sandburg was dead.

***

Jim knew from the time he turned onto Prospect that Blair wasn't home. It was fairly early but it was Monday morning so he assumed Blair was already at the station. Simon knew Jim wasn't coming in; the captain having approved Jim's time off the previous Friday.

Jim sighed, knowing that was something else he should have told Blair. No doubt Blair would be hurt by his silence - Jim hadn't taken time off without telling his friend first in almost a decade.

Christ, could he have handled this any worse?

Jim knew he had to tell Blair everything. He hadn't needed Carolyn to convince him, although he let her think she had just to make her happy. He owed her big for putting up with him all weekend; despite the fact that she'd nearly talked him to death the entire time.

Carolyn had had a lot to say, and most of it was stuff he had needed to hear. Jim could admit that to himself, at least.

He parked in his usual spot and started inside 852.

The phone started ringing inside the loft while he was still in the stairwell. The answering machine picked up and Jim frowned. Blair's usual light-hearted greeting had been replaced with the mechanical voice of the canned default.

 _please leave a message after the tone ... ... ... beep_

 _"Sandburg! Pick up the phone! This is unacceptable, Detective! ... Blair, please ... That's it, I'm on my way over there. You'd better be home, Sandburg!"_

Simon's voice was harsh with concern.

Taking the last flight at a run, Jim slid to a halt at his door, unlocking it with shaking hands.

He stepped into the loft and felt his throat close, scenting the saline traces of Blair's grief, the very air telling him what he didn't want to know.

Blair was gone. Blair had given up and left him.

He'd finally driven Blair away.

***

The notion of walking to South America amused him, in some cold and distant back-of-the-brain way that suggested it really wasn't funny. Why shouldn't he walk? Bus, train, or foot - it didn't matter. Nothing mattered; and it was his time to kill.

Killing time and killing dreams ... he was good at killing. Wasn't he - metaphorically - killing himself?

A walkabout appealed as a good way to get out of Mexico City anonymously and soon.

He didn't want Jim to see his face ever again.

He longed never to have seen that look in Jim's eyes.

Not for the first time, he wished Jim had never brought him back at the fountain.

Not for the first time, he had to face the fact that it was all his fault. He'd ruined both Jim's life and his own.

Killed their friendship.

No, he really couldn't take this.

He really couldn't be that person any more, no.

***

Simon drew his weapon when he realized the door to the loft was standing wide open. He ducked his head in and out quickly - street-tested recon - and didn't exactly relax even after catching sight of Jim.

Jim was just sitting there, on the edge of the sofa, his shoulders hunched over a piece of paper he held in one hand.

"Jim?" Simon holstered his weapon and closed the door, thinking he should have expected something like this. For a moment, he wondered if Jim had zoned out, even though that hadn't happened in years. "Thought you'd still be out of town," he added quietly, glancing sideways at the frantically blinking answering machine.

At least four of those messages had to be his.

"Sandburg's gone," Jim said woodenly, offering the paper without looking at Simon. "He left. He says- Here. You read it."

As a matter of fact, Simon had already read a few too many of Blair's goodbye letters that day, several forwarded from his other detectives. Then there'd been his own private farewell email from Blair, which had felt like the reading version of watching a train wreck; every bit of it burned into Simon's memory.

 _Simon,_

 _You've been such a good friend to me. I hope you know how much I love and respect you, man. I know, you don't want to hear it, but this time you have to._

 _By now you've read my formal letter of resignation. I'm sorry for doing it like this - not doing it face to face. You deserve better from me, but I can't take the chance of you talking me out of this._

 _I have to leave. I mean, leave as in get out of Cascade. Leave Jim. I need you to understand that none of this is his fault. Call it irreconcilable differences. Not funny, huh, me comparing it to a divorce, but that's what it feels like. I guess you'd know, and I'm sorry if I was ever less than sympathetic at the time._

 _Please, take care of Jim. This truly isn't his fault, Simon, none of it, so don't let the guys give him a hard time. This is all on me. I fucked it up (again, what a surprise, huh) and the only way for me to fix it is to get the hell out of Dodge. It's time I was moving on, anyway._

 _In a weird kind of way I'm looking forward to traveling again. Detach with love, see the world. The Sandburg creed, right?_

 _It almost sounds good._

 _Don't worry about me. You know me, man, I always land on my feet and I'll be fine. I don't know if he'll even want to, but don't let Jim try to find me. You, either. Just, let it go, for my sake. I have to get some distance._

 _Thanks for everything, Simon. You've been a great friend. Give Daryl my best._

 _Love,  
Blair._

Simon had a pretty good idea what those irreconcilable differences were. He'd been afraid of something like this for ten years.

It had been his sincere hope that it wouldn't go down this badly.

Taking the note, Simon adjusted his glasses.

 _Dear Jim,_

 _I'm sorry. There's not much else to say. I'm moving out, so you can come home now. I would give anything to fix this but it's beyond help, I guess. God, I'm so sorry._

 _Blair_

Heartsick, Simon couldn't believe that was all there was - a few short lines as an epitaph for the closest relationship he'd ever seen two people have.

He'd expected Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg to last forever.

Pulling off his glasses, Simon rubbed his burning eyes. He was sorry, too, although he wasn't going to say those words out loud.

He suspected right now they'd cut too deep.

***

He ate, he drank, he tried to sleep. He knew he had to tend to his body's needs ... because Jim would know - Jim would find out - if he died and his death would upset Jim.

He would never hurt Jim Ellison again.

Death was too easy for any person who could.

He wasn't that person.

Not any more.

No.

That man was gone.

***

In Guatemala, white American men were suspected of being CIA, which wasn't a good thing, since the American CIA was directly responsible for nearly forty years of civil war in that country; provoking a wave of ethnic cleansing that had killed over a hundred thousand.

As if the United States government hadn't killed enough indigenous people inside its own borders.

The man who had been Blair Sandburg didn't look so much like a white man anymore.

Joachim Estevez - he was on his third set of ID - wore his hair dyed black and kept it tightly braided, shuttering his eyes with dark brown contact lenses. Given his now-more-pronounced bone structure and the deep tan he'd acquired by the time he'd walked out of Mexico, Joachim passed as easily as any of the other Ladino descendants of Mayan kings and conquistadors.

It was a relief to him every time he saw a stranger in his reflection.

A relief to be someone else.

Allowing the anthropologist who still existed inside him to appreciate what he saw, Joachim slid through the fringes of society, occasionally spending time in markets or cafes just to hear human voices.

Usually, though, he camped out, going from wild place to wild place and avoiding civilization altogether.

Joachim had learned it was easier to try to sleep with only the naked stars to watch him.

***

Upon reflection, it shouldn't have surprised him to run into his mother near the Temple of the Great Jaguar at Tikal. He knew Naomi had been there before; so had he, for that matter. Tikal was one of the earth's places of power for the people who were sensitive to it.

Naomi had always been drawn to those.

He heard her before he spotted her, of course. She was with a group walking across the plaza, deep in discussion with three other people, her Spanish precise and excellent.

She looked wonderful. The sound of her voice, sparkling, clear and happy, told him a couple of things right away; Naomi didn't know he'd left Cascade and Jim hadn't managed to catch up with her yet to tell her.

All to the good, as far as he was concerned. _He'd_ known - in general - where Naomi was at the time, but he'd counted on Jim not being able to reach her.

He considered for several long minutes whether to let her know he was there. In the end, although he had a hundred good reasons why not, he just couldn't disappear from her life.

She was his mother and she loved him - the dead him - that guy he used to be who hurt the person he loved the most.

He could not be that person anymore, and it was going to hurt to have to be him for her, but he could do no more damage.

He wondered if she would recognize him unless he spoke to her first, waiting for a moment when her companions moved away. He didn't want to scare her. Neither did he want her crying out his name or exclaiming about his altered appearance.

He approached her from behind and called out to her quietly - as soon as he could remember his English. It took him a few moments.

"Mom! Wait, don't turn around yet. Don't use my name." His hands closed on her shoulders. Naomi gasped, but her hands came up to cover his automatically.

"Sweetie?" Her voice caught as she squeezed his fingers. "Are you all right?"

"I've just - made a few changes. Try not to act too surprised, okay?"

He turned her gently, aware of her wide-eyed astonishment, but Naomi didn't make a sound, merely reaching for both sides of his face.

"You look beautiful. You're too thin."

Her loving, joyful welcome stabbed at his sore heart.

"Ma. I love you."

She hugged him then, her arms fierce and protective despite the awkwardness of his backpack and bedroll.

"I love you, too," she whispered in his ear.

His hugged her back, trying not to remember the last time he'd been this physically close to another person.

"What name should I use, then?"

For the first time in what seemed like forever, he smiled. It made his face hurt.

"Joachim. Joachim Estevez."

Naomi pulled back and looked at him evenly.

"Are you on the run? The gov-"

He shook his head.

"No, it's not like that. Maybe we could talk about it later."

"I think we'd better ... Joachim. You know, I've always liked that name. It was on my list for you but I went gender-neutral instead. Joachim was a king of Judah. It's a very powerful name. It means 'established by Yahweh'. It suits you."

Content to let her lead, he listened to her anxious chatter and allowed her to hook their arms together as they walked.

***

Naomi managed - somehow - to wait until she had Blair somewhere they could speak undisturbed, which turned out to be the secluded garden behind the bed and breakfast in El Remate where she was staying. They were sitting on a small bench; outdoors, because Blair had balked at going inside.

He'd shouldered out of his backpack, looking relieved to be free of its weight.

Naomi held his hands and stared at him, unable to take her eyes off this man who so faintly resembled her son. In his black tee and jeans Blair looked lean; so lean he made her stomach ache. He was quiet and self-contained and still, his infrequent words offered in a low and rusty voice.

The changes in Blair went far beyond cosmetic differences and worried Naomi terribly. She was frightened for him. Blair was nothing like the person he'd been when she'd seen him six months ago, and that kind of fundamental personality shift didn't occur without-

Suddenly horrified, Naomi's heart clenched with fear.

"Sweetie, is Jim- did something happen to Jim?"

He grimaced, face paling underneath his tan, then said the words Naomi never thought she'd hear from her son's mouth.

"I left him. I had to." Blair's voice was so tight it made Naomi's chest hurt. He looked away and she squeezed his hands, trying to concentrate past her immediate relief that Jim wasn't dead.

 _That_ was news she'd been dreading for ten years, knowing it would destroy Blair to lose Jim.

She hated to see she'd been right.

"What happened?" she encouraged gently.

"I made a mistake. I did something I thought was the right thing to do at the time, and it turned out to be a total freaking disaster that ruined everything."

"Oh, baby." Naomi closed her eyes for a moment. She knew that particular feeling too well. "He couldn't forgive you?" Like you forgave me, she added inside her head.

"Not this. No, that's not fair. He probably would have tried, eventually, but I-"

Blair's hands fisted beneath hers as he went silent. Tugging at him, Naomi made him look at her, hoping he'd see in her eyes how much she loved him. Apparently he did, because he slid off the bench and knelt at her feet; laying his head in her lap, hiding his face with one arm.

His shoulders were trembling. She curled over him instantly, holding him as the muscles in his back twitched and jumped, betraying a grief too big to contain.

"I couldn't stay. I couldn't stand the way he looked at me after- after-" Blair sucked in a gasp of air, strangling himself when he would have sobbed out loud. "Mama, I fucked it up so bad."

Naomi bit her bottom lip bloody to keep from crying out, her eyes stinging with the tears her son was struggling not to shed.

***

Naomi wasn't surprised when Blair eventually nodded off, and she was willing to sit there as long as it took while he escaped into sleep. Doing her meditative breathing - synching it with his - was second nature and did absolutely nothing to calm her thoughts.

She could think of only one thing Blair could have done to turn Jim against him after all this time; after everything they'd already been through together and gotten past. One thing, to which Jim Ellison might react so badly that he'd murder something inside Blair's soul.

The white hot fury that raged in her mind didn't extend to her body, which remained relaxed and at ease. She stroked that unfamiliar black hair and entertained some regrettably negative notions that included physical torture and the IRS ... all the while asking the gods why, why, why did they permit the man Blair loved to be so obliviously straight?

And who the hell did Jim Ellison think he was, anyway, refusing her Blair?

It occurred to Naomi that she ought to try to feel sorry for his stupid ass because regardless of what Blair said, it took two to fuck up a relationship so totally and the man was an obvious fool and she should pity him for having lost Blair from his life...

...but she wasn't nearly there yet and couldn't stretch her sense of compassion far enough to see it coming any time soon.

She wanted to hit Jim. She would just really like to kick his ass personally. Or no, between his legs. She figured she could get in at least one ball-busting blow if she moved fast enough. She could make it hurt.

Sighing very very quietly, Naomi admitted to herself that she was hardly letting this go, and promptly buried it instead. Blair wasn't going to need her anger, and anything she said against Jim would only hurt Blair's feelings more, so that was out.

Not to mention, she'd learned her lesson. She wasn't going to do anything Blair himself didn't tell her to do.

Never going there again, she reminded herself.

If Blair wanted his location kept secret from Jim, she'd have no problems denying any knowledge of it.

Maybe if she could just spit in his face...

***

Blair awakened very slowly, lazy in the thick heat, knowing right away where he was. He breathed in Naomi's familiar scent and let himself drowse, ignoring his complaining back and numb legs.

Right now, he felt unexpectedly safe and loved and - almost good.

He'd needed this so badly that having it now, when he'd known nothing but pain for so long... Some dark cloud had lifted to let in a little sun.

It was maybe, maybe, not the complete end of the world.

Feeling rather like he'd woken up saner than he'd been in four months, Blair patted Naomi's leg. They reluctantly straightened and she looked him dead in the eye.

"You have to stop going to that place in your head, Joachim. You're pretty close to losing yourself."

His mother was right. He had to stop going there and living in that moment - the one when Jim had jerked away from him and given him that _look_...

No, he had to live in the present or he really would be lost, and maybe it was time to live _with_ the fact that his present didn't include Jim.

"Sweetie, are you okay?"

He didn't realize until she spoke that he was crying.

"You know what, Mom, I think you can call me Blair," he said with a watery grin, promising himself he'd get through this.

It was the first time he actually believed it might be possible.

***

Grief was a moon that lodged in his chest, waxing and waning and always, always there.

It hadn't taken much detective work to learn that Blair had flown to Mexico City; but Jim didn't find him there. Jim might have terrorized himself with visions of Blair lying dead in some filthy back alley if not for two things. Simon was with him, and Simon told him Blair had practically announced he would be disappearing since he'd asked Simon not to let Jim look for him.

Jim decided Blair must be nuts if he thought Simon - or anybody else - could stop him.

He might not know what the hell he was going to say to Blair, exactly, but Jim knew he had to find him.

Simon didn't argue with Jim, nor did he try to prevent Jim from looking, merely saying "if you think you can work it out" and then booking their flight.

Remaining remarkably close-mouthed otherwise, Simon clearly agreed with Jim that Blair should be home.

***

Jim assumed he would know if Blair were dead. He'd had that feeling once before; that sense that had turned his feet around on the steps of Hargrove Hall, taking him directly to his dead friend's side.

So while he grieved, missing Blair, Jim didn't mourn, because Jim was equally convinced that he would see Blair again and fix things.

This didn't keep Jim from longing for Blair's presence, or prevent him from being angry with himself for the way he'd treated Blair after Blair kissed him.

That was two weeks - and now more - with Blair that Jim would never get back again.

Two weeks that had convinced Blair it was hopeless.

Two weeks to have totally fucked up their lives.

He came to terms with the fact that his 'freak-out' really had less to do with Blair himself than Jim's memory of being molested as a child. Knowing that didn't make Jim feel much better. He and Blair had paid too large a price for it.

Jim wished he'd talked to Blair about everything instead of running to Carolyn, but he'd just ... panicked.

Part of Jim was panicking still; not that he let it deter him.

Jim decided that Blair needed to know that Jim didn't hate him - in fact, still _loved_ him - whether it ever went beyond friendship or not.

He couldn't leave things like this.

***

From Mexico City, Jim and Simon went to Peru.

Jim had been so sure Blair would go to the Chopec.

The dawn of Jim's fifth day with the tribe, Ajllasca - now the shaman - made Jim sit with him while he spirit-walked.

It was an honor Jim knew better than to refuse; plus, it was his duty as the tribe's 'sentinel emeritus' - but it made his heart hurt to be reminded of Incacha and Blair.

When he finished, Ajllasca inspected Jim closely.

"Enqueri, your shaman lives. The jaguar gods walk with him."

The Chopec shaman would say nothing further, but Jim found he felt a little reassured.

***

Blair's absence was a constant, nagging, ache. Jim found it hard to eat or drink or even breathe on the worst days, when the weight of loss seemed to sit in his throat and strangle him.

Later, Jim would think that his week with the Chopec probably saved his sanity.

***

Once back in Cascade, Jim couldn't get used to the quiet, especially at night.

Stupid, since he was capable of hearing noise from practically every part of the city; at any volume he chose.

It wasn't the right noise, though.

It wasn't Blair.

***

For their sakes, Jim tried to behave like he was okay around his friends and family. He knew they were worried.

It was hard to pretend.

***

Occasionally, Jim wanted to blame Blair for being a coward and running out on him.

On _them_.

Every time he flirted with that notion, he heard Carolyn say _"I bet you looked at Blair just like that, didn't you. That poor bastard."_

Then he'd recall Blair's face just before and after that kiss - the expressions Jim hadn't noted at the time; too caught up in the crap emerging from his brain.

Every time, he could see how much Blair loved him.

Every time, he could see how he'd destroyed Blair.

Jim thought he should have snapped Blair's neck.

It would have been kinder.

***

As weeks went by with no word from or about Blair, Jim started seeing a psychologist that Carolyn recommended. Doctor Reed was an abuse survivor herself. She was blunt and frequently sarcastic and wouldn't put up with Jim's shit - making him talk; making him identify his feelings until she was satisfied he could live with them.

For his own satisfaction, Jim ran his molester's ID through the system, not sure what to feel when he discovered the guy had been murdered in prison twenty years ago.

***

Jim replayed his sense memories of Blair's kiss, losing himself in that moment, tasting only Blair.

Blair kissing him like Blair owned him; loving him, wanting him...

The night Jim realized how much _he_ really wanted _Blair_ , he woke during climax and bit the side of his fist bloody to keep from yelling Blair's name.

Then he wept for them both.

***

Jim wondered if Blair would forgive him, even if he found Blair and explained the way he'd reacted.

He wondered if he could ever forgive himself.

Doctor Reed crossed her arms and stared at him for that one.

"For what, precisely, do you need to forgive yourself, Jim? The fact that you suffer from PTSD?"

They'd established this several sessions ago when he'd finally started talking about more than the molestation itself.

Doctor Reed had had a few uncomplimentary things to say about the staff psychiatrists employed by both the Army and the Cascade PD - things she'd muttered under her breath without knowing he could hear.

"For suffering the return of a repressed memory that gave you an entirely involuntary flashback? For not realizing at the time that what you felt as a child is not how you feel towards Blair? Who, by the way, can hardly be held responsible for his lack of knowledge, either."

When she used that tone of voice, Jim always felt like he was standing in the principal's office. It was oddly comforting.

"What about this is your fault?"

He wasn't about to suggest he was at fault for allowing himself to be molested in the first place. They'd already worked through that bit of self-delusion.

"I hurt Blair. I- I broke his heart."

"Because he loves you. Everything you've told me about him leads me to believe he's a person who offers forgiveness as part of love. But whether Blair forgives you or not, Jim, understand that you had a reaction beyond your control."

Actually, Jim _could_ forgive himself for that much of it, at least. His initial reaction was the only excusable thing about any of this, and he knew, deep down, that Blair would forgive him that.

The fact that he'd avoided Blair for two solid weeks, barely speaking to him, even at work ... that part wasn't so forgivable in Jim's opinion, and he said so.

"I'm glad you realize that. You've learned a valuable lesson - nothing is improved by the use of avoidance tactics."

Jim thought that was a lesson Blair needed to learn, too.

He couldn't wait to teach it.

No more leaving. Either of them.

***

He went back to the Chopec two weeks later.

Ajllasca patted his shoulder and said "Not yet, Enqueri. You will know when it is time."

***

"Ellison."

 _"Jim. It's Jack Kelso. Naomi Sandburg is in Guatemala."_

"Thank God." Jim didn't care that Jack could hear the relief in his voice. This could be the first solid lead on Blair's location since Blair had vanished in Mexico City. "Thank you, Jack. Thank you."

 _"You're welcome. Naomi entered the country two days ago, on her way to Tikal."_

"She'll kill me if she finds out the Agency has her on a watch list," Jim predicted. He wasn't too worried about it, honestly.

 _"Her name is off the books now. I didn't want to chance her tracing this back to me,"_ Jack admitted and Jim almost smiled. _"Listen, Jim, she usually stays at the Casa Rosa bed and breakfast in El Remate. Given her usual pattern, she'll probably be there for at least a week, maybe two."_

That would give Jim more than enough time to catch up with her.

"I'll leave as soon as I can get a flight."

 _"Good luck, Jim."_

"Thanks again, Jack."

***

Jim was packing when his father arrived.

"Going somewhere?" William asked, his obvious surprise reminding Jim that they were supposed to be having dinner together.

"Guatemala. Naomi's there. My flight leaves in three hours." Jim cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about dinner. I should have called."

He'd forgotten.

William graciously waved that off.

"That's okay, son. Can I give you a lift to the airport?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Setting his suitcase by the door, Jim went to the kitchen and cleaned out the refrigerator, getting rid of the perishables he wasn't going to want to smell when he returned. His dad leaned against the island and crossed his arms, watching Jim.

Feeling a little twitchy under that too-familiar regard, Jim inspected the set of his father's jaw.

"You don't approve of me trying to find Blair," he concluded.

"I understand your need for- what's the term? Closure?" William suggested a bit stiffly.

Jim could practically hear Blair's voice in his ear, saying "Jim, man, your dad's been watching Doctor Phil again."

He startled himself by grinning.

"You know what, Jimmy? You're mistaken. At this point, I'd pay Blair Sandburg to come home ... as if that would work," William added with an inelegant snort.

"What?"

William lifted one eyebrow.

"He never told you. I offered him a million dollars to leave you after that fiasco with the media in '99."

"You _what_?" Jim blinked, not sure he'd heard that right. "You offered Blair-"

"A million. He told me I could take my indecent proposal and shove it up my ass, of course."

"Of course," Jim said weakly, picking his jaw up off the floor. "How did I not know this?"

"Neither one of us thought you needed to, I suppose. Jimmy, that was seven years ago. Blair and I made our peace."

"Well. Okay, then."

Shaking his head, Jim rinsed his few dirty dishes and loaded the dishwasher. His dad was right. It had been seven years and he simply didn't have the energy to get angry about it, now - although he definitely planned to add it to his growing list of 'things to discuss with Blair'.

"You know, Dad, closure isn't exactly what I'm hoping for."

"Then whatever that is, I hope you get it."

So did Jim.

He figured hope's chances could be improved with the application of stealth and determination.

***

"I'm so glad we ran into each other here, Blair."

"Me too, Mom. It's been very healing. Thank you."

Naomi let her gaze go unfocused as she inspected her son, pleased to see Blair's aura was significantly brighter; although far from his usual standard.

Better, but not good and not well. Naomi understood Blair might never fully recover.

It didn't matter. She would love who he was now as hard as she could, same as she always had.

She and Blair had been meditating - drawing on the earth to drain negativity - and they'd been talking. A lot. Not about Jim directly, or what happened to drive Blair away; Blair didn't seem to want to go there and Naomi tried to respect that. They talked instead in generalities, discussing pain and guilt and remorse and leaving and how much it all hurt when you finally _got_ that it was _over_ ; that you could not work it out and it was beyond repair.

Naomi thought Blair seemed more serene and less like his heart had been amputated.

She hoped for his sake it would be enough.

"Sweetheart. Why don't you consider coming with me to Ireland when I leave here? I'd love your company and it would be so good for you."

Blair thought that might not be a bad idea. The more time he'd spent talking to his mother and clawing his way out of the deep depression he'd fallen into, the more apparent it became to Blair that he'd been letting what happened drive him _out there_ , like orbiting _Pluto_ out there.

'Psychotic break' out there.

Deciding that while he was willing to live or die for Jim, he wasn't willing to go crazy for him, Blair told himself he'd been like, way too codependent anyway. Something had to give; which was going to be his feelings for Jim, not his sanity.

Blair ignored the tiny voice that said 'Yo, dawg, it's a little too late, Elvis has _left_ the building' and tried to pretend he felt entirely rational.

"Yeah, I'd like to see Ireland again."

***

"Walk with me, nephew."

Blair tipped up his head and looked at the old woman who stood there, her creased and weathered brown skin spare over classic Mayan bone structure.

He touched Naomi's arm and murmured in her ear, knowing she would remember him saying it later when her meditative state lightened.

"I'll be back, Mom. Don't worry."

Then he stood and bowed at the old woman, aware of the power she held.

She nodded back at him and pointed a direction.

They walked in silence for a long while, making brief stops during their slow trek around the Plaza for each cardinal point.

Blair was pretty sure she could outwalk him any day of the week, even now.

Finally, she started speaking.

"Three times, you have lost your life."

His feet froze. She stepped past and turned to face him. Her irises were black, arced with pale circles of old age.

Blair's breath caught in his throat as she peered right through him. He could _feel_ her; like standing next to a high-power line.

"Three times. For the body, the heart and the spirit. Do not lose your faith. Do not forget who and what you are."

He blinked, eyes hot, hand going to cover his face. To hide from her. She pulled his forearm down and shook him lightly.

"Do not give up, nephew."

"Yes, Ma'am. I mean, I won't."

She shook him again. Blair met her impenetrable gaze with difficulty.

"You are not listening. Do not surrender your place with your sentinel."

"Oh, shit, no," he breathed, shaking his head and suddenly able to move well enough to back away. "Don't say that."

She followed, unceremoniously pinching the back of Blair's hand; quick as a snake.

It stung.

"Ow!" Offended, he grabbed his hand to his chest. "Hey!" he said then amused himself right out of his irritation when he flashed on Luke Skywalker and Yoda.

"You have been told. You know your place."

Blair opened his eyes, understanding that the entire encounter had happened somewhere inside his mind. After glancing over at Naomi, who was serenely meditating beside him, he looked at the back of his still-smarting hand.

The skin was marked; reddened and bruising.

His eyes started burning when the bruise reached all the way to his heart.

"Shit," he repeated ... and then swallowed his hopeless agony for the thousandth time.

No more.

He didn't care what his fucked up subconscious said. He had no place. He had no sentinel.

He was letting this go.

***

Awake and miserable with it, Jim stared out the window willing the dawn. First class - his dad had upgraded his tickets with an amused smirk, saying "you might as well start spending your inheritance now, Jimmy," - was quiet, dim, and under-populated. Jim had his row of seats to himself and it felt terribly empty.

He hated the nights. Jim could pinpoint to the date the last solid night's sleep he'd had; the night before the Hanson bust. It had been just another 'typical day' case - right down to the shootout and Blair pushing him out of the way of a speeding truck.

Later, when the two of them were at the loft and finally alone, he'd hugged Blair and thanked him and said "happy anniversary, Chief." He'd been making a joke as much as anything, but he'd meant it.

Blair had kissed him like he was water in the desert.

He'd give anything to have that moment back again, knowing then what he knew now and aware of what he wanted.

 _Who_ he wanted.

He'd been so happy that night. Happy to have wrapped up a tough case and happy they'd both come out of it with no more than a few scrapes and bruises for their trouble. So relieved his best friend hadn't been hurt and so grateful for the way his partner watched his back.

So grateful for Blair.

Not for the first time, Jim wondered about the look he must have had on his face in _that_ moment, too, as he'd smiled at Blair. Held Blair and hugged him.

Blair had been so warm...

Christ, no wonder Blair had kissed him.

Jim scrubbed his face in his hands and wished the flight - this was his fourth, or was it fifth? plane - was over.

He'd flown a hell of a lot in his life under some dire and deadly circumstances, and with one notable exception - the helicopter crash from which he'd walked away the sole survivor - he'd never been so uneasy while flying.

If Naomi had heard from Blair, Jim had to anticipate Blair would have told her not to give him Blair's location. He was probably going to have to talk his ass off to convince Naomi to tell him anything.

He didn't know what to say, but he was not above begging.

If Naomi _hadn't_ heard from Blair, he had to hope that she might be willing to suggest places Blair might go ... and he was probably going to have to talk his ass off to get that information, too.

Either way, he wasn't looking forward to it.

He wished he could sleep and just turn off his brain.

He got it now, the meaning of all those weird looks Naomi used to give him, full of penetrating speculation; as well as the resigned, faintly sad faces she occasionally made when Blair couldn't see her.

No wonder she always worried so much about Blair. It put a different spin on her misappropriation of Blair's dissertation.

Jim wondered now how much of what Naomi had done had been motivated by her wish to get Blair out of his life.

He couldn't blame her. He supposed she must have always expected he'd end up hurting Blair.

***

Naomi sighed, slowing her step and drawing Blair to a stop.

She could not believe she was about to say this. Heaven help her.

"Blair, are you sure you're doing the right thing by cutting yourself out of Jim's life like this? I can't imagine that he's happy about it."

"You don't know-"

"I know he loves you, sweetie."

Blair cocked his head sideways, staring at her. Those brown contacts made his eyes look cold. She hadn't been able to convince him to take them out. _"Gotta look like my passport, Ma."_ She hated the way they shielded his emotions.

"Okay, who are you and where is Naomi Sandburg?"

"Very funny, considering, _Joachim_ ," she replied, not at all amused. "Are you being fair? Or are you too busy being right?"

"Are you _possessed_?"

"Blair Jacob Sandburg!"

He threw up his hands and waved at her, resembling the son she'd given birth to.

"Mom, I don't want to talk about Jim."

"I think you have to."

"That's where you're wrong."

Anger stirred under the numb calm Blair had fallen into; twitching like tremors beneath the earth's crust.

He was doing Jim a favor. Didn't she get that?

 _Or are you running away because your feelings were hurt?_

The situation was intolerable.

 _Two weeks isn't a very long time._

 **"He fucking well can't stand to be around me!"**

Blair didn't need Naomi's wince to realize he'd said that a lot louder than necessary.

Well, screamed it.

He found himself rubbing his chest, sure his heart was about to stop; it ached that much. Stomping his feelings back down - again - Blair opened his eyes, wondered when he'd closed them, and met his mother's worried gaze.

"Don't make me tell you what happened," he begged, desperately fighting not to feel again.

He didn't want to feel.

"I don't need to know. I just need _you_ to be sure you're doing something you can live with, Blair."

"I'm _trying_ to live with it, Mom."

His rough whisper told Naomi how literally Blair meant his words, and she ground her teeth against a wail.

"Are you saying-" her voice shook "you feel suicidal?"

I've lost my reason for living, Blair thought; managing not to say it out loud merely because it sounded ridiculously sappy and overwrought, even inside his head.

But it was the truth, and Blair knew it.

"No. I'm not going to kill myself."

"But you want to? You wish you could?"

She looked at him with entirely too much understanding. It unmanned him, making his guts feel watery.

"Mom. I won't. That's just going to have to be good enough."

It wasn't like he could admit _to her_ that he was only keeping himself alive for Jim's sake.

Something in the back of his mother's eyes told Blair she'd already figured that out.

***

The ninety mile drive between Guatemala City and Tikal seemed to take Jim forever. He probably should have found a hotel room and slept first, but being this close to a solid lead meant he couldn't bear to wait.

His senses sharpened involuntarily as he entered El Remate, easily following the directions he'd been given to the bed and breakfast Naomi usually favored.

He smelled Blair as soon as he stepped out of the car, gasping with it; a drowning man breaking the surface. Blair's scent rocked him into a synesthetic rush - Jim could _see_ the molecules of sweat and skin oil that flowed in and out of his mouth and nose, sparkling like glitter in the humid air.

Proof. Blair was _here_.

Jim startled himself when he growled.

***

One of the many remarkable things about the Mayan ruins of Tikal was its acoustics. Standing atop one temple, a person could hear the normal speaking voice of someone talking from across the Plaza.

Jim didn't need great acoustics.

For the sentinel listening from the parking area, Tikal National Park was bursting with noise. Howling monkeys, other small animals ... two hundred kinds of birds and thousands of insects ... the visiting people ... it all combined to make a tidal swell of sound that poured into and around him.

Jim categorized and filtered out each separate noise, straining to hear the only sound that really mattered to him and latching onto it with ballistic precision.

 _"-sorry, Mom."_ It didn't even sound like Blair's voice - but it _was_ \- hoarse and sad and tired and unfamiliar. _"I can't tell you what you want to hear. I'm getting on with it. Isn't that enough?"_

Blair sounded _broken_.

Jim stopped in his tracks and piggybacked his sight along his line of hearing, focusing on where Blair stood - and that was Blair, yes, but it _wasn't_ \- mouth grim and jaw set.

It actually took Jim a moment to notice the black dye job and brown contacts. He reeled, shocked when a hand grabbed his forearm and steadied him.

An elderly woman had hold of him, grinning at him toothlessly.

"Good thing you came. He is a stubborn one."

Taking a breath that informed him he hadn't been, Jim blinked once then glanced away from the old lady to focus on Blair again.

Naomi was sitting on one of the stone steps of the Temple of the Great Jaguar, patting the spot beside her.

 _"Blair, sweetheart, please sit down."_

Blair sat like it hurt him to move. Jim watched him shiver and lift his head, looking around. Even knowing Blair could not possibly see him, Jim's own skin shuddered sympathetically when Blair turned his way.

Every line and shadow on Blair's beautiful face made Jim even more determined to fix things _now_.

Instinct was demanding the same.

***

"What's wrong? You weren't this tense earlier," Naomi asked him worriedly.

Blair tilted his head, trying to ease part of the ache that spread from his forehead to his mid-back. He felt like somebody had him targeted under a laser sight. He kept looking around him for that ruby flash of light.

"I not sure. I just- I think we need to leave."

"Then we'll leave," his mother said softly, taking his hand. Blair stood and helped her up, then they balanced each other down the steps until they'd reached ground level.

Blair looked around them again. There were the usual numbers of people wandering about. Tourists; some in groups, some couples, some alone. Backpackers. Parks employees. Locals. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Blair's gut was screaming a warning he'd learned not to ignore.

"Honey, what is it?"

I'm being hunted, Blair realized suddenly, as another chill crawled up his spine, planting itself with an icepick to the base of his skull.

His heart gave a weird little flutter that tried to resemble hope. Blair crushed it without mercy and wouldn't even let himself consider that it might be Jim. He didn't _want_ it to be Jim, he reminded himself grimly. It was more likely to be some criminal with an axe to grind, which made Naomi's safety Blair's first priority.

Walking her into the middle of one of the larger tour groups slowly making its way across the Plaza, he leaned into her side and hugged her shoulders.

"Stay with the group, Mom. I love you."

He left before she could protest.

***

"Heh," the old lady pronounced then walked away, startling Jim out of the vague haze he'd fallen into. Watching Blair react like a wild thing to the weight of his eyes was affecting Jim in ways Jim hadn't exactly anticipated, even after some of his dreams.

Glad he was alone, Jim adjusted himself inside his jeans - reminding his dick that he couldn't just leap on Blair and have done, so just shut up - moving in a direction that would intersect Blair and wondering when Blair would spot him.

He didn't have to wonder long. Blair froze like a deer in headlights, shook his head, and then wheeled around - heading at speed for a trail that led into the trees.

Unaware he was grinning fiercely, Jim went after him.

***

Blair didn't need to hear the man chasing him - he could feel it; like having a bullseye taped between his shoulders. He didn't know if he was more afraid that man was really Jim or that it wasn't. He couldn't believe what he thought he saw.

 _You know it's Jim._

Blair was hating that stupid voice in his head, big time.

He was no longer entirely sure of his sanity. Seeing Naomi had kind of pointed out to him that his grip was a little loose right now. She thought he was behaving irrationally - not that she'd said it out loud, but he could tell. _He was_ sure he was behaving irrationally, but he really couldn't stop to analyze whether he was having a reasoned reaction or was just plain nuts.

 _I don't know why the hell you're running._

Neither did he, outside of his desire to get a confrontation away from his mother and any other listeners.

How the hell was he supposed to look at Jim's face? God. That wasn't Jim. That couldn't have been Jim. Jim didn't know where he was.

 _Jim's a fucking detective and a sentinel, you dickhead. He traced _Naomi_ here and your presence is an unfortunate coincidence. What difference does it make? He's looking for **you**. Did you really think he wouldn't?_

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Blair muttered out loud as adrenalin spiked his heels. "You better hope it's Jim or you're in deep shit."

 _You're in deep sheet anyway, compadre, and so_ what _if it's not? I wish a motherfucker would, you know what I'm sayin'?_

Oh, yeah, he was fucking nuts, all right, in Technicolor and SurroundSound.

"Jim, if that's you, leave me the fuck alone, man. I don't want to- I don't want to-"

 _Who knew? Apparently, you can't lie to him._

How could he? Of course, he wanted to see Jim.

Oh, hell, no. He didn't.

Blair took a side trail and poured on the speed, intending to double back towards the park entrance. He was afraid to stop and look behind him. It felt too much like one of those Old Testament pillar of salt moments, full of doom and the end of days.

But he had to look. Didn't he have to know?

Heart pounding, Blair left the path and holed up behind a gigantic ceiba tree, trying to catch his breath as silently as possible; knowing he couldn't _be_ quiet enough for _Jim_ to not hear him.

If it was Jim.

The rain forest went silent.

***

Five solid minutes of arguing with himself later, Jim elected to let Blair keep the tree between them and talk Blair down ... instead of circling behind and simply _taking_ Blair down.

He was sorely and deeply tempted.

Blair, however, was hovering on the edge of a panic attack. He hadn't had one in years, but Jim remembered how his heart and lungs sounded during the nightmares Blair sometimes suffered; Blair's vital signs accelerating, combined with the suffocating metallic fearscent Jim could smell rising from Blair's skin.

Jim hated that Blair was _afraid_. _He'd made Blair_ afraid _of him_ , something he'd _never_ managed before, no matter how badly he'd behaved in the past.

A lot more cooled than just Jim's temper. He had to think, not just react.

 _Broken. Don't hurt him again._

Jim took a deep breath and kept his tone quiet.

"I love you, Blair. Please stop running from me."

Blair gasped like he'd been gutted; too near a shriek for Jim's sensitive ears.

"Blair?"

"No. It's really you? Wait! Don't- don't look at me. Just- go away, Jim. Go home."

"Shit," Jim hissed, wrapping his arms around himself when Blair's words impaled him. _Don't look at me._

"Jesus God, Blair, please forgive me. I'll never hurt you like that again, on my honor. Please. Trust me one more time, baby."

Blair was on his knees, leaning into the tree, numbly considering at what point he'd left reality completely behind. He couldn't have heard what he thought he heard. Not from Jim Ellison. Which meant he was either dreaming, dead, or in some strange alternate universe where he and Jim were together the way Blair's heart had always told him they were supposed to be, from the first goddamn time he'd _looked_ at Jim Ellison.

"I can't go home without you. I think you know it's not home unless we're both in it. Listen, Chief, we don't have to go home if you don't want to. Maybe I could stay with you? Where- where were you going next?"

If Blair didn't know better, he'd swear Jim was crying, but that was impossible because Jim just didn't do that. Ever. Not to mention say those kinds of things. Not to him. And never in such a nakedly vulnerable, honest tone.

He couldn't listen to this. The sound of Jim's voice, so rough and tight, reached down Blair's throat and pulled his heart out. It was killing him. He couldn't bear to hear Jim sound so upset - and he couldn't bear to _care_ again - because he was dying already.

He just couldn't _do_ this again.

He was on his feet sprinting away before his brain could send a conscious order.

"God damn it," Jim snarled and gave chase.

Blair beat him at the fifty but Jim caught him zigging when he should have zagged shortly after; grabbing Blair from behind and turning them so they both hit the ground on their sides, Jim automatically protecting Blair's head. Blair tried to pull out his reach but Jim refused to let him go, throwing one leg over Blair's and holding him down.

"Blair, talk to me?"

"Talk. Yeah. Where was I going? I was going to walk to Bolivia. Just because. Good a destination as any, isn't it?"

Jim blanched, leaning his forehead into the nape of Blair's neck. Blair had gone rigid in his embrace. Frozen. Distant as the moon. His tone was detached and even, almost amused, and wrong, wrong, wrong; so colorless and empty Jim wanted to howl.

Blair's scent was off, bitter with anguish, and his heart was still trying to beat its way out of his chest. Jim didn't like the way he kept his face so resolutely turned away.

 _Hiding. Still hiding._

Jim pulled Blair closer still, rolling Blair prone under him: hands under Blair clutching Blair's forearms to his chest; knees astraddle his thighs. Jim dropped just enough of his weight on Blair's back to impress upon his friend that he wasn't letting Blair get away.

"Chief. Please?"

Blair started shuddering from head to toe, gasping in tiny sips of air.

"I missed you so much."

Blair couldn't stop shaking. Couldn't get control of his body. Couldn't move.

Couldn't _believe_ this was really Jim, but he _knew_ these arms. These arms had held him before.

He knew this was Jim, _his_ Jim, and it was as real as it gets.

And he still shivered, afraid to believe, well aware he wasn't exactly thinking clearly. God, how _could_ he? Jim's body was pressed against him, Jim was holding him like Jim intended to never let him go, and Jim felt so good, so hot and strong.

Blair sobbed as Jim's proximity went directly to his balls. He tried to crawl away, hating himself for his instant physical response, the unrelenting desire he'd fought so hard to control and conceal. Hating himself, because Jim would know it as soon as he did and he couldn't _not_ feel it.

"No! Let me go! I can't-" Blair quit protesting and attempted to freeze himself again, insides screaming, desperate to get away before Jim could reject him again.

 _Not again, never again. I can't live through it again._

Blair's shaking intensified. Jim dropped more of his weight to anchor Blair and felt Blair's full-body flinch.

"Get off me, man! Let me go!"

"Never happen, Blair. You're going to listen to me." It sounded like an order, Jim thought regretfully, then decided it was just as well. If he couldn't tell with every sense how much Blair wanted him this would scare him to death worrying about consensuality.

He'd done this and he was going to fix it and that was it.

And Blair felt amazing beneath him. Amazing.

Blair couldn't speak. He was shaking again, snared between panic, his waning adrenalin, and his spiking desire. Every involuntary shiver sent his erection rubbing against the ground, shoved into firm contact by Jim's weight along his back.

"God. You feel so good," Jim murmured into his hair, groin rocking into Blair's ass like he was unable to quit.

And Jim was _hard_. That was Jim's cock pushing against his crease.

Jim _wanted_ him.

Skin prickling, Blair bit back on a needy whimper, aroused out of his mind into surrender.

"Jim. You don't- you don't-"

"I didn't _know_!" Jim managed, wondering why he hadn't anticipated how goddamn good Blair was going to feel ... lean and solid and warm and the sweet curve of Blair's firm ass felt fucking incredible against his cock and Jim couldn't have stopped if somebody held a gun to his head - especially with the smell of Blair's desire for him putting itself in the driver's seat.

"Chief, I promise I'll explain it. Later. Just- God- let me- I have to-"

Blair cried out when Jim's mouth started traveling over his neck, tongue tasting his skin in licks and lazy sucks ... then Jim put his nose at Blair's nape and audibly sniffed him, still rocking into Blair's ass.

Rocking Blair's cock into the earth.

Jim's hands, still at Blair's chest, thumbed over his stiff little nipples, making Blair whimper as his balls tightened. Lightning gathered at the base of his spine.

"Oh, oh," Blair whispered helplessly, so fucking turned on he couldn't stand it, teetering on that sweet plateau. "Jim-"

"Mine," Jim said and then bit, hard, closing his teeth over the tendon next to Blair's spine. The sharp pain sent Blair shooting over the edge; wailing into his own palms to keep from screaming his pleasure.

Jim groaned through his teeth, riding Blair; cock stuttering against Blair's ass. Jim's obvious satisfaction flayed Blair's nervous system with an orgasm so cataclysmic Blair wasn't sure he was going to live through it. Writhing unashamedly, Blair pushed his ass into Jim, wild with Jim's abandon and his own.

Catching Blair by the hair, Jim yanked his head back and forced Blair over onto his back. Covering Blair once more, Jim brought their groins together and pushed, moaning as the last of his climax rumbled through him; leaving him feeling as if his entire body had fused into Blair's.

Hands on either side of Blair's head, Jim put them face to face.

He wasn't surprised to find Blair's eyes closed.

Stubborn, indeed.

"Look at me, Blair."

Blair's eyelids lifted, and he hesitantly met Jim's gaze, blinking and dazzled.

Snickering, Jim continued gently rocking into him, feeding aftershocks between them both. Blair was slow to focus, his attention plainly prioritizing Jim's actions over his words.

"Did you know you have one brown eye and one blue eye?" Jim asked conversationally, waiting for it ... then Blair looked into his eyes and smiled at him with such stunned joy Jim had to grin back.

And kiss that smile.

It would have taken a sentinel to detect Blair's minute flinch. Jim decided - rather dimly - that he still had some ground to make up, so he dedicated himself to precision tasting of Blair's mouth, which suited his perfectly, just like he'd remembered.

 _Heaven_.

Soft and wet and silky and just a little sour beneath the sweet because Blair was hungry and thirsty and Jim resolved to take care of that, too.

Later.

By the time Jim lifted his mouth, Blair was gasping and they were both getting hard again. Jim thought that was pretty impressive, all things considered. He sidetracked himself by undoing Blair's braid, finger-combing Blair's hair until it made a wild cloud around Blair's face. The color of it was a little disconcerting, but Jim also found it appealing in some odd way that struck Jim as faintly kinky, like Blair was a stranger.

But not. And that was the best part.

"I love you, Blair."

Blair shut his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to trap the tears that welled up at hearing those words from Jim.

Finally, and just when he'd given up all hope...

"You really do. Wow. I guess you know I love you, Jim."

He gasped when Jim licked the tears off his temples.

"Thank you, baby. Please forgive me for being such a-"

"Forgiven." Blair's gaze darkened; plain to Jim despite the incongruous colors of his irises. "Forgotten, not so much. I'm trying, but I don't understand your initial reaction compared to what just happened. What's still happening."

Jim's heart fell when Blair's expression closed up just a bit, as if Blair was still trying to defend some part of himself from being hurt again.

He was already planning ways to get rid of that reaction, and not all of them were non-verbal.

Jim figured hey, he was on a roll.

"When you kissed me, I had a flashback to a repressed memory from when I was twelve. I was..." Jim took a deep breath because this was never going to be easy to say "...sexually assaulted. The older brother of a friend kissed me and forced me to fellate him. It happened the week after Bud was murdered, Blair."

"Oh, Jim."

Blair held him, stroking lightly, and Jim felt something relax deep inside, sure in the knowledge that he really could tell Blair anything.

"I buried that memory along with the others and buried everything that wasn't heterosexual. I never let myself even remotely consider the possibility of loving a man. I didn't _see_ it, it was so far outside my worldview."

Jim felt Blair's eyebrows go up and smiled into Blair's neck.

"I've been seeing a psychologist," he murmured into warm, taut skin. "When I wasn't looking for you."

"You looked for me?"

Jim lifted his head and stared at Blair.

"What do you think, Sandburg?"

"Oh. Well. It took you long enough?"

"Too long." Jim swiveled his hips and watched Blair's pupils expand. "You're good at vanishing, Chief. I'll give you that."

He reached down between their bodies and opened their flies, holding their cocks together in his fist. Desperately turned on by the way it felt to touch Blair so intimately, Blair's instant matching response made Jim growl; both of them regaining the erections that had subsided earlier and becoming harder still.

Licking at the gasps Blair was exhaling, Jim traced a path to one ear, nuzzling aside the wild black curls. Blair licked his neck and Jim groaned, lost when Blair's hands traveled over his ass and squeezed, pulling them even closer.

The sensational heat and pressure of Blair's cock against his began to tighten Jim's balls too soon. Jim really wanted to see Blair lose it first.

"I want you to fuck me."

"Oh _GOD_!" Blair wailed, exultant.

Jim felt it against his own cock; that brief warning vibration as it traveled along Blair's length, alerting Jim to that instant before Blair started coming. Jim cried out as the sensation smashed him into a climax of his own, so unexpected and intense that it momentarily blinded him, leaving him panting and weak and sprawled over Blair.

"Damn," Blair eventually managed, speaking in a breathy tone that reminded Jim he was lying with his full weight on his friend.

"Hmm. Yeah. Here." Rolling off to one side, Jim brought Blair with him, until they lay face to face, arms and legs entwined.

Blair wasn't having any trouble meeting his eyes now, Jim noticed, silently congratulating himself.

"What you saw on my face wasn't directed at you, baby. It was never _you_. I'm sorry it took me so long to work it out and I'm so sorry you were hurt."

"I'm sorry I left, Jim. If it's any consolation, I was starting to talk myself into going home," Blair admitted and blushed. "I missed you, too."

Jim grinned at Blair, amused by those ridiculous mismatched eyes.

"Good. Don't leave me again."

"Not in this life."

They lay staring at each other and grinning for an inexcusable amount of time; until Jim's senses pointed out a couple of items of note.

"Gonna start raining in about fifteen minutes, Chief."

"It's the rainy season."

"And Naomi's waiting for you - _us_ \- on the Plaza."

"Hmm. You know, you might want to just sneak past her while I provide a distraction. She tried pleading your case but mostly she wants to kick your ass. She thinks I don't know that, by the way. Hey, she'll have noticed you tracked _her_ here."

Blair stuck the tip of his finger in Jim's temple, and Jim just laughed, so damned grateful Blair was _talking_ to him. Touching him - reaching _out_ to him.

However angry Naomi might be, it was way beyond worth it.

"The ends justified the means, Chief ... she pled my case?"

"Yeah, it shocked me, too. She knows I need you. It's always scared her," Blair added as if it had just occurred to him.

"I understand that. She was right to be scared."

Blair recognized the guilt and self-directed anger that lay behind Jim's slightly grim tone. Promptly deciding he didn't need Jim to keep feeling bad - they'd both been punished enough, in Blair's opinion - he took Jim's face in his hands, inwardly reeling at being free to _do_ that. Welcome, even.

Jim hadn't meant to hurt him. He knew Jim hadn't. Blair believed that now; part of him crying for the twelve year old Jimmy Ellison he hadn't been able to protect.

It wasn't like he didn't understand at least part of what Jim had gone through. As a teen, he'd been fondled and kissed against his will a couple of times and damned lucky it hadn't gone beyond that. Blair was of the bitter opinion that very few escaped some type of molestation. He knew the damage done to self-worth by revulsion and helplessness ... and poor Jim, with his talent for repressing memories, had to suffer those revelations alone.

Reminding himself not to dwell on his own counterproductive feelings of guilt, Blair accepted that he wasn't blameless; he'd left Jim and precipitated Jim's flashback to begin with.

He couldn't feel entirely sorry for the latter, not when it had finally brought them here - but he wished, most sincerely, that Jim had never had to recover those memories.

"Jim, you didn't mean to hurt me-"

"God, no!"

"Intent makes a difference, you know, and I forgive you, remember? Plus, I'm not exactly blameless, here. I- I didn't just _leave_ , I- I-"

 _I went to ground. I hid, like a wounded animal. I'll have to watch that._

"-I'm sorry, too."

Jim put his hand over Blair's mouth and grinned, a delighted boyish smile that reached all the way into his eyes and made him glow. Jim took Blair's breath - he always had - and to see him _happy_ felt like a gift Blair doubted he entirely deserved.

"New rule. Nobody leaves."

Blair pulled Jim's hand off his mouth, so Jim kissed him ... and was still kissing him when the clouds started emptying ten minutes later.

***

Naomi watched them walk out of the jungle together, soaking wet and faces a little sheepish. She caught her breath at Blair's aura, which shone radiantly. He'd finally taken out those damned contacts and his wonderful eyes were their usual, brilliant blue; framed by spiky wet lashes and drenched hair ... transformed back into her son and not the tortured stranger she'd met in Blair's stead.

He looked like he'd been handed back some intrinsic part of his soul. They both did.

Right then and there Naomi forgave Jim everything. Besides, it would take a more hard-hearted woman than she, to stay mad at a Jim Ellison who kept gazing at Blair with a goofy grin and stars in his own eyes.

The way they kept glancing sideways at each other - like they couldn't bear to look at anything else - was just about the most beautiful thing Naomi had ever seen in her life.

"You look so happy," she limited herself to saying, dimly amused when they both blushed.

Naomi knew she was crying and counted on the rain to hide it, torn between her genuine joy for their happiness and stricken with a terror so deep she trembled with it.

Their jobs put them in mortal danger all the time, and if Jim should predecease Blair - which was more than likely - it wouldn't take _months_ for Blair to follow Jim.

Naomi's heart quailed at the thought of burying her child.

Blair had no idea.

But she had to quit blaming Jim for that. It just _was_ , like any other fact of life.

Swallowing a sob, Naomi tried to smile at them both.

She _hadn't_ counted on Jim Ellison, who took her hands in his.

"Naomi," Jim sighed. "What can I say?"

"That you'll stop putting Blair in harm's way on a daily basis would be a good start, and by that, I mean, stop risking _your_ life, too, Jim."

"I actually agree with you."

"Jim?"

Blair sounded surprised. Both Naomi and Jim reached for him at the same time, and Blair came to them rolling his eyes.

"Ooh, we're having a moment," he said as he wrapped his arms around their waists, squeezing them both.

Jim actually snickered at Blair's sarcastic tone. Naomi found herself giggling too; tears finally drying up. Jim squeezed her hand and released it, his freed hand going to Blair's chin to tip his face up for a kiss.

"You can be such a shit," Jim said admiringly, making it sound like an endearment. He waited politely for Blair's eyes to uncross before he continued.

"I think I'd like us to retire and do a little freelance work. My idea of acceptable risk-" Jim smirked at them both "-seems to have undergone a paradigm shift-"

"Please tell me your psychologist doesn't use those terms with you-"

"You're seeing a psychologist?" Shocked, Naomi spoke before she could think.

"Yes, I am, Mom," Jim said to Naomi before turning back to Blair, pushing wet hair off Blair's face. "And no, dear. I'm just yanking your chain."

"And you do it so well," Blair said in the kind of tone Naomi had never heard coming out of her son's mouth - a tone she recognized instantly, watching it melt over Jim.

She did _not_ need to hear this.

"Stop! I draw the line at innuendo," she said, laughing as she hugged them both. "I really am happy for you both." She put her hand on Jim's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'm so proud of you, Jim, for seeking help. That must have been difficult."

"Thank you. I had to. It became one of those acceptable risk issues." Jim was suddenly serious as he turned to look into Blair's eyes. "I couldn't take the chance of something hurting either one of us again."

"Hmm. I suppose that's why a revelation is referred to as 'a blinding light from above'," Naomi pronounced with some sarcasm of her own, jumping when Blair pinched her in the ribs. "Blair!"

"Come on, let's get out of this rain and get dried off and go get something to eat. I'm starved," Blair said, herding them both, his stomach growling loudly enough for Naomi to hear it. "Jim has a rental car in the parking lot."

"Thank god we found the keys," Jim muttered into Blair's ear and Blair laughed.

The sound held all she'd ever wanted for her son.

***

"About this retirement thing-"

"We'll discuss it. No more unilateral decisions, new rule number two."

"Is that, like, new rule number two as in replacing the current rule number two - not that I remember what that is - or is that new rule the second or what? And how many rules are you planning to add?"

"You can add some."

"How magnanimous of you. How about, nobody goes to bed angry?"

"Can't see that being a problem, Chief."

"Sweet talker."

***

Jim woke in the night just to make sure Blair was really beside him - suspecting it was going to become a habit; at least, for a while.

Blair slept the sleep of the well and truly fucked out.

Not that it hadn't been mutual. Lying there with a tingling, empty feeling in his ass, Jim laughed at himself for ever thinking he couldn't 'be gay for Blair'. Every time his sphincter twitched, an aftershock rolled through him that would have brought him to his knees if he'd been standing; arousing his brain if not his exhausted body.

He'd fucked Blair and Blair had fucked him and they'd shared another handjob in their hotel room's shower after that. Finally collapsing on the bed, curled together, they'd practically passed out.

Because it had been amazing, mind-blowing sex with all that equally amazing mind-blowing love attached. Supernatural.

Oh, yeah. Jim decided he was happy to be gay for Blair.

Behind him, Blair was deeply asleep, holding on with one arm over Jim's waist. Jim was sure it was better rest than Blair had had in months.

The same was true for him.

Thankful for second - and third and fourth - chances, Jim breathed in Blair's pure clean scent, luxuriated in the way Blair spooned around him, and let himself drift back off to sleep, secure.

He had plans for the morning and a campaign to pursue to total victory.

***

Blair awakened with Jim's mouth on his morning erection. Jim was rubbing his lips against Blair's shaft, testing the texture of Blair's skin ... then Jim gave a tentative lick across the head.

Pure Blair.

Blair nearly turned himself inside out when he realized what was happening; trying to pull away from something that plainly felt good. Jim didn't let him - grip hard on Blair's hips; his weight lying over Blair's thighs.

"No. Jim, stop. What are you- you don't have to- you _never_ have to-"

"I want to."

"Oh, god. Oh, damn. Just. You need to stop- Don't- don't-"

"You feel good, baby," Jim soothed, murmuring the words against the anxious flesh throbbing against his mouth. The skin was so incredibly fine and silky; the rigid muscle underneath swelling even harder, hot and strong and alive.

Jim had never thought this part of the male body could be at all lovely, but this was Blair and that made it lovely to him.

Now, if he could just get Blair to believe that.

Moving to free up one hand, Jim pushed Blair's thighs apart and stroked his fingers over taut balls while mouthing the ridge of Blair's cock.

Blair was trembling again, betraying a fear that made Jim snarl inside.

Jim reached out and caught Blair's hand, fisted in the sheet. He drew it to his face, letting Blair feel where Jim's lips met his body before he lifted his head and looked at Blair directly.

"Blair, relax. It isn't the same thing. I want to do this because I love you."

"What if you have another flashback, Jim? I can't- God, please, don't you understand? If you- I won't- I can't. Please don't do this to me."

Fighting an urge to flinch at the raw terror in Blair's eyes, Jim pondered how to convince Blair to let him do this. Blair had made up his mind to such a degree that his erection was softening.

"We're equals in this relationship, aren't we, Chief?"

"Yeah," Blair drawled slowly, gaze sharpening to alert and rather suspicious.

Jim knelt upright before Blair and cupped his own scrotum in one hand, running the fingers of his other hand along his shaft; deliberately flexing his arms.

He was not ashamed to fight dirty.

Cheering inwardly, Jim watched Blair's mouth fell open; Blair's cock refilling untouched with ego-gratifying speed.

"Oh my fucking god." That tone was pure awed lust; not a trace of fear left in it. "Oh, you look- Angels weep, Jim."

"Geez, Sandburg." Skin heating with a fiery blush, Jim reminded his embarrassed self that he had an agenda here. "You want to suck me?"

He displayed the goods. Judging from Blair's hot stare, he did it quite effectively.

"Yeah," Blair barely breathed, that 'Holy Grail' glow in his eyes.

"Quid pro quo." Coming down on one hand that he braced beside Blair's head, Jim rubbed the tip of his cock over Blair's belly. "You want me in your mouth?"

Blair licked his lips, gaze lingering along the arch of Jim's body before slowly, slowly meeting Jim's eyes.

"It's not quid pro quo."

"Oh, yeah. It is. If I don’t get to, neither do you."

Blair blinked at him incredulously.

"You're _blackmailing_ me?"

"Call it incentive," Jim corrected, dragging his fingertips through the liquid beading up from his own cock. He rubbed it lazily over Blair's lower lip and touched Blair's quick, curious tongue. "Is it working? Don't you want me in your beautiful mouth?"

Blair gasped, prompting Jim to lower his head and kiss Blair like a conquering warlord.

Whining at the back of his throat, Blair shared Jim's taste of himself and offered the exquisite flavor of his own surrender.

Jim judged it sweet.

He lifted his head and smiled.

"Just lie back and take it like a man, Sandburg."

"I can do that," Blair said and found himself smiling, too.

He managed to relax and enjoy Jim's slow trip down his body, but when Jim's mouth closed over his cock, Blair froze. Fighting with everything he had not to close his eyes and turn his head away, Blair was queasy with dread - and arousal. What Jim was doing felt _good_ ; bold tongue prodding the nerves beneath the head in a move that went straight to Blair's balls.

If Jim didn't stop he was going to come in Jim's mouth.

Blair was scared half out of his mind.

Jim sighed through his nose, resulting in a peculiar gust of air against Blair's sensitive flesh. Jim then glared at him - which was less threatening than it might have been considering Blair's cock was still in Jim's mouth.

Jim pulled his lips off Blair with an audible pop and pointed to his own face.

"See this? This is me, not freaking out."

"You've been hanging around me too long," Blair complained, amused despite himself. "This is me, _trying_ not to freak out."

"Try harder," Jim growled in a voice that slid into Blair's tailbone and throbbed there. "I want you to come. I want all of you."

With that demand, Jim sucked Blair's cock into his mouth again; hot and slippery and wet. Jim's tongue flattened and rolled along the underside of Blair's shaft, swirling and slick; hand wrapping around the base of Blair's cock keeping his presence shallow enough not to gag.

Jim hummed approval; one finger of his other hand pressed against Blair's anus and perineum.

Blair's climax struck like lightning, instantaneous. He clapped his hands over his mouth to keep from howling, his orgasm so fierce and sudden that he forgot to worry about Jim's reaction. Jim swallowed, palate tightening around the head of Blair's cock prolonging the incredible pleasure.

Sated, Blair simply melted.

"My Jim. God, how I love you."

Jim moaned, pushing his forehead into Blair's belly. A dazed Blair marveled when he saw Jim's hips jerking into the bed, feeling Jim's tongue jerk in sympathy against his softening cock.

"Oh. Oh, wow. You're- awesome, Jim. Awesome."

Jim was slow to release him, crawling up his side and collapsing, head on Blair's shoulder.

"Not too amateur hour?"

"No, man, Not at all. You're like some kind of _idiot savant_ with the gay," Blair teased, content to just be happy for a while.

"Jerk," Jim said, laughing into Blair's amused face. "I think I'd prefer the term 'natural'.

"Yeah, that, too." Eyes stinging unexpectedly, Blair smiled into Jim's clear blue eyes and was thankful.

Apparently, Jim could do this ... and so could he.

So could he.

End  
1 April 06


End file.
